Vox
by Jeanne Luz
Summary: It's a non-date date. Tony and Ziva pretend to watch a movie. Tony has a staring problem. Ziva's fingers are as interesting as her toes. And, "it's not all about sex you know."


**Disclaimer:** Chocolate is icky. Oh, _THE _disclaimer? Do I really need to say that I don't any of these characters and that cbs has dibs on the show? Apparently so. Okay, they do. I just like to think of my self as the puppeteer.

**Spoilers:** The end of Jurisdiction.

**Stuff that makes you wonder.** That "my date canceled," is Ziva's way of saying _she_ canceled her date. And Tony was lying about having one in the first place. Anyone notice how Ziva gets that little girl voice on occasion when she's trying to talk to him about something important? I bet Tony would notice too. And what's with the finger thing? It's fun to wonder. Me, I think it's something she started while held prisoner just to pass the time. OR, you know, it's a nervous tell. And for some reason, it just seemed to work better narrating this using only HE and SHE

* * *

Her voice is like honey; a subtle sweetness that doesn't leave his mouth. She says yes to the movie in the shy-girl sweet voiced reserved for him alone.

He knows she's trying to tell him everything he wants to hear but can't get the words out. She wants what he's dying to give her and she has no idea how to ask for it.

Maybe it's because he's crushed her oblique prior attempts. He never wants to do that to her again. Perhaps it's why he can't bring himself to ask her _Do you want to take a chance with me? Let's face it. We'll lose each other if we don't._

She's scooted as close to him as she can get without sitting directly in his lap. She hates most of his movie picks, but she's actually pretending to watch this.

It might be true love.

It certainly is an act of friendship, despite her early comments to the contrary. She tries to give him a sideways glance and fails miserably. He turns to hold her gaze. She looks pained, stunned. Like a little kid who's just learned what a rotten place the world can be.

He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I really like your hair like this."

She opens and closes her mouth and then stares at her feet. Maybe her toes are as interesting as her fingers.

He almost can't hear her when she says "I will keep it in mind."

He forces himself to fake rapt attention at the movie. Staring at her is a little stalker like.

He swallows back everything he wants to say. _Think we could ever talk? Really talk? About Somalia, even though I will want to pretend I never heard it? How are you not bitter after everything? Do you ever think about actually making a commitment to one person for the rest of your life? Have a specific person in mind? I do. I'm pretty sure you do too. I like it when you're shy. Did you know I see a therapist? It's like couples therapy for one. Did you know I moved? Got a much smaller apartment. It doesn't feel as empty. It's close to the Navy Yard. Yep, I'm pretty much Gibbs. I go to work. I go home. I watch a movie. I'd build something but I don't know how and I can't get a boat into the apartment. Oh yeah, I got a smaller bed too. I don't know why but I kept reaching out for you in the middle of the night and you weren't there. When I thought you were dead, I couldn't stop feeling like you were tucked up under my arm. That's when I ended up sleeping in a chair in the living room. _

He smiles, "This is my favorite part."

She bites the tip of her index finger. There is no trace of condescension or sarcasm in her voice when she speaks, "It always surprises me you don't watch more movies with sex scenes."

"It's not all about sex you know."

He frowns. Maybe it's not a good idea to ask if she wants to spend the night with him. She might not believe he only wants to sleep next to her and let her pummel him in his sleep. He'd know she was next to him, for real. And his sheets would smell like her until he broke down and washed them.

She proffers her empty cup to him, "Refill?"

"As you wish."

She doesn't comment. Maybe he needs to put The Princess Bride on the list. It's sort of a pirate movie anyways.

He brings back a fresh bowl of popcorn with their drinks.

She worries the straw in her mouth. It's entirely distracting and he doesn't want to finish the movie. He wants to take her home and wrap her up in his comforter like the shy-voiced finger-fixated woman she is tonight, but everything is going too well. He doesn't want to do anything to upset the current balance in the room, and there's always the chance she'll pass out on his shoulder.

Half way through, she's lapsed into a semi-slumber. The side of her head rests on his shoulder. If her lips where any closer to his neck she'd be kissing him. She sighs in her sleep and slings an arm across his chest. Her hand rests on his left shoulder.

She feels right.

He lets her sleep until the end credits scroll across the screen before giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Wake up sleeping beauty."

Nothing.

He squeezes her a little harder. "We have to go home. You need to go bed."

She stretches. "Mmmm hmmm. Do you want to have some coffee before we go?"

"No."

Her fingers go to her mouth.

What was it with her and the nibbling? If she starts to bite her fingertips again he's going to shake her. He doesn't like knowing she has a nervous tell. He finds himself rubbing reassuring circles into the small of her back.

She relaxes ever so slightly into his hand when he says, "I want to bring you home and put you to bed. Bed-bed. I'm tired too."

"I'd like that."

He helps her slide her coat on. "I think we could choke on the sweetness of this all."

She looks like she might kiss him. "I think that sometimes we deserve something a little sweet."

He has both their bags slung over one shoulder and a sleepy Ziva on the other as they push through the parking lot.

She doesn't protest when he drives them both to his apartment. Her eyes are half closed while she dresses for bed. She pulls on a pair of his boxers and his last clean T shirt and then snuggles down under the comforter.

He wakes when the sunlight slices through the gap in the curtains. She's pressed herself into his side. She's asleep when he kisses her.

He grins. She tastes like honey.

* * *

So, it's a bit different from what I normally write. There are no physical or verbal projectiles and no 'private time,' intimated or otherwise. So,if you please, what did you think?

Thanks for reading.


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